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A bouquet of fresh daisies sat in a green glass vase on top of his ice chest. He arranged the stems, wanting them looking perfect for when she walked into his cell. The burning candles filled the room with the sweet scents of honeysuckle and rose.
On the cot, set out precisely so he could easily reach for them, were a roll of duct tape, handcuffs, a hunting knife, lighter fluid, and the finishing touch for his night of fun—his Michael Myers mask.
Beau stood in the corner of the room, close to the entrance. He wiped one sweaty palm down his black pants, and then rubbed the smudge away from his black combat boots. He glanced at the mask on the cot. At the end, when the essence of life left her eyes, he would reveal himself. To make sure his face was the last she ever saw again.
He’d fantasized about the idea, but there were times he doubted his dream would come true. Like an Olympic athlete, he’d trained his entire life for this defining moment.
The sound of shuffling, like someone trying to get through the crack in the wall, came from the corridor.
She’s here.
He retrieved the mask from the cot and quickly put it on.
An audible gasp drifted into his room.
The voice was definitely female.
Beau grinned. She was right on time.
A clap of energy surged through him. He peeked at her through the doorway, holding his breath, afraid to make a sound and scare her away.
She came down the corridor to the light. All in black, with a red sash around her waist, she had a sombrero on her head, a black mask around her eyes, and a bottle of champagne in her hand.
He waited as she inched closer, anxious to get his hands around Leslie’s throat.
She stuck her head in the door and glanced around.
Beau stayed to the shadows, his back pressed against the stone wall.
He jumped her when she turned her head and slapped his hand over her mouth. The champagne bottle tumbled to the floor by the entrance, shattering with an explosive pop.
She struggled against him like he knew she would. The sombrero was squashed between them, almost making him laugh. With one hand around her mouth and the other around her neck, Beau dragged her to the cot. A quick jerk ripped off the flimsy hat. He took in her pinned up, dirty-blonde hair.
She screamed as he forced her to the floor. He snatched up the duct tape and then wrapped it snugly over her mouth.
Her mewing cries filled him with such satisfaction.
He peered into her deep blue eyes. “No one can hear you, my Leslie.”
She fought against him even more. He liked that. Sitting on top of her, he retrieved the handcuffs from the cot, flipped her over on her stomach. Her hands secured he could now have his fun.
Beau undid a few of the pins holding up her hair. He played with her shoulder-length blonde tresses, reveling in the silkiness. Then, he picked up the knife, sizing up which end of her costume to start with—the top or the bottom.
Decisions, decisions.
He wanted to see her breasts. Beau carefully cut the black shirt away from her chest, making sure not to leave a mark on her, and then removed her bra. He would wait to see her entire naked body before he chose where to make his first cuts.
Her struggles lessened when the cold air hit her breasts. Her nipples perked up and he licked his lips, enjoying the display.
To cut her pants away took some skill, but by the time he snapped her underwear off, he felt proud of his accomplishment. He’d removed every stitch of her clothing without so much as a scratch.
Beau hoisted Leslie off the floor and placed her on the cot.
“You wanted your first time to be special. I’m going to give you the night of your life.”
She didn’t fight him as he secured her handcuffs to the pipes. He didn’t like that. In his fantasy, he’d imagined her resisting so much more.
Inspecting her slender body and long legs, he smelled her skin, eager to fill his nostrils with her heavenly scent. Unfortunately, the heady scent of honeysuckle from the candles obliterated her faint perfume. Damn!
Irritated one pleasure had been denied, he wanted to feel her naked against him. He kicked off his boots, slid out of his pants, and discarded his underwear. His mask stayed on; it made him feel powerful.
She kicked her legs when he climbed on top of her. There was his girl. Her resistance aroused him. It was what he had longed for.
“That’s it, Leslie. Fight me. Don’t make it easy.”
She thrashed harder, trying to free her hands from the pipe.
“Keep that up, and you might cut yourself.” He laughed—sounding cold just like his old man. “I don’t want you bleeding yet.”
He savored the feel of her in his hands and raked his nails down her chest. Finally, he had the girl he’d been obsessing over for months. He wanted to make his enjoyment last.
From her ankles to her stomach, he deposited tender kisses, still trying to catch her scent. When he licked her nipples, Leslie kicked again. She caught him in the stomach, provoking Beau’s rage.
“You’re going to pay for that.”
With a closed fist, he knocked her back on the cot. Blood blossomed from her nose, dripping down the duct tape over her mouth. He delighted at the sight. He went back to kissing her thighs, but soon his kisses turned into bites. Beau sank his teeth into her flesh and she bucked in pain.
He went a little crazy, ripping into her breasts, tearing at her nipples. The taste of blood turned him on more than seeing her naked.
But the biting got boring, and he yearned to move on to the climax of the evening.
“Now to the good part. I’ve had a few virgins in my time, but I always wanted you.”
Beau pried her knees apart, throbbing with anticipation. He had not brought any condoms with him, wanting to enjoy every inch of her.
Holding his breath, he braced her hips and thrust hard and fast into her, eager to make sure it hurt.
Leslie let go a muffled scream.
“How’s that feel? Was it worth the wait?” He put his mouth to her ear. “All those times you laughed at me, all your comments, your bitchy attitude, I swore this moment would come. I promised you I would make you mine.”
Eager to enjoy his fantasy to the fullest, he took Andrea’s red scarf from the wall and cinched it around her throat.
Leslie gasped for air as blood continued to flow from her nose.
The metallic scent blended with the perfume from the candles around him as he rammed into her, tightening his grip on the scarf. He was high, like a bird, soaring with his ecstasy. He had conquered her impudence, broken her will, and it took away his anger.
Then the rush; the wave of power he felt with the others, but with her, it was so much more. This bliss he equated to heaven. What the angels sang about, the prophets preached, and the regular people hoped to attain. But he had captured it here with his Leslie.
“Can you feel it?” He slammed harder into her. “So good. This was meant to be.”
Before he knew it, a flood of satisfaction overtook him. He let out a low, guttural scream as he released into her.
He collapsed on top of Leslie. The night had even been better than anticipated.
Panting, Beau pushed up on his elbow and noticed she was very still. He slapped Leslie’s face repeatedly, wanting to make sure she stayed conscious. He had much more fun planned.
She trembled when he gripped her hips. The fear oozing from her was sublime.
Beau flipped her over on the cot. He ran his hands over her butt, relishing the smoothness of her skin, the purity of the color.
“Now, to the real prize. I’ve always wanted to take a girl’s ass.”
Leslie thrashed as he held her hips to his. To stop her wiggling, he yanked at the red scarf, jerking her neck back and holding the fabric in his teeth. He wished he could feel his hands around her neck but needed them.
He spread her butt cheeks apart, spat into his free hand like the video online had recommended to heighten his pleasure, and then forced himself inside her.
Leslie arched on the bed, screaming with all her might. He could feel her every muscle shaking. She crumpled onto the bed, giving in to him completely.
It was better than he expected. The power it gave him over her was the real thrill.
He didn’t last long, and after he groaned into her back, he pushed her away.
His fantasy fulfilled, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching her sob into the cot. He didn’t like the sound—he wanted silence, so he punched the back of her head.
After a minute, Beau became concerned because she wasn’t moving. He shook her, but nothing. Not even a moan. He checked. She was still alive.
“Pity we can’t have another go, but I have to make sure they don’t find you.”
He unhooked the cuffs from her wrists and discarded them. Lifting her battered and bloody body from the cot, he thought it a shame he couldn’t keep her somewhere, to revisit again and again.
Might have to look into that for my future ladies.
Once he had positioned her on the floor, he set her hands over her chest like a corpse. She would be one soon enough.
He put his pants on and then went into the corridor. After collecting several handfuls of dry leaves and twigs, he drizzled them around her. He also added her cut up clothes and sombrero to the pile. For the final touch, he doused everything with lighter fluid.
A nice slow burn was what the internet advised to destroy a body.
Beau set a few of the candles on the floor next to the debris.
After gathering up his things and returning them to his duffel bag, he examined the room. He would miss the cozy little space. So many fond memories had been created there.
Leslie had not moved the entire time. He figured she was almost as good as dead. Just about to leave the cell, his bag over his shoulder, he glanced back at her.
“The best and last night of your life, eh, girl?” He removed his mask, making sure she saw his face, and then tossed it on top of her.
Snickering under his breath, he left.
Once outside the cells, Beau sucked in the crisp night air, invigorated. His fingers and toes tingled with his power. Why couldn’t he feel like this all the time?
He eased forward, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the night, the grass knocking against the legs of his black jeans. His desire for another crept into his thoughts. But who would replace Leslie? Who would be his next prize?
Ahead, something moved at the edge of the fountain.
He squinted to get a better view. He wished he hadn’t. Three large dogs had gathered at the fountain. Their eyes on him, they snarled and hunched their backs, ready to attack.
His euphoria spiraled into fear.
Beau took off at a run for the brush, determined to get out of there before the dogs came after him.
